Brothers
by Ouaysis
Summary: One stormy night in London, Sirius decides he's had enough. Oneshot. *This is a (way, way better) rewrite of a story I've now deleted.*


**I found the beginnings of this on my computer today and totally had forgotten about it, but I felt inspired so I finished it! So I just thought I'd drop it here in case anyone is interested. :) Hope you like it! I originally had this posted on my account as "Desperate Escape," so this is technically a rewrite, but I promise this version is much, much better. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters and am simply borrowing them. (Do we still need these? No idea, but adding to cover my butt just in case...)**

* * *

**Grimauld Place, December 1975.**

The evening started like most in the Black household—Regulus and I were called down for supper, our parents already seated at the head of the table. Kreacher bustled about, humming happily as he served his beloved mistress and her family. My top lip curled up as he paused by my seat, eyes narrowing as he begrudgingly served me. We all began to eat quietly. _One more year in this hellhole and I'll be gone_, I thought comfortingly. The moment I turned seventeen I would be gone from this place. For a while there was no sound other than the storm outside and the clinking of silverware on porcelain. Dad rustled the _Daily Prophet_, grunting angrily at the pages.

"The Ministry is offering protection for that filth," he said, shaking his head and pushing the paper away.

Mother's lip curled up as she sipped her mulled mead. Her dark eyes glinted with disgust.

"Disgraceful," she said haughtily, shaking her head.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Not only were they full of hatred for anyone they did not want to understand, but they derided all who refused to be bigoted alongside them. The reaction was a mistake, however.

"Undoubtedly _you_ think its noble, offering protection for the scum," Regulus said, smirking at me across the table.

Glancing at my mother and father, then narrowing my eyes at the annoying shite of a brother across from me, I simply shrugged and continued to silently eat my food. I had learned years ago not to do anything which might provoke them.

"How's the term so far, dearie?" Mother asked Regulus.

"Fine," Regulus said, "Quidditch practice and running the Dark Arts club has absolutely drained me, but I'm handling it. Sirius is certainly enjoying his year despite exams, though, eh mate?"

I tightened my grip on the fork in my hand. I had hoped he would keep my recent bought of detentions to himself. Clearly, that was far too much to ask.

"What does he mean, son?" Our mother scowled at me.

I glared at my brother a moment before forcing a smile and turning to her.

"Nothing, Mum, he's just being a twat."

"Watch your language," she said with a scowl. "What did you mean, Regulus?"

My brother shot me another smirk across the table.

"He's been given a month's worth of detention as soon as we get back. Him and that Potter boy he's always with." Regulus's chest puffed out, as if ratting me out to Mother and Father was his life's accomplishment. "For hexing Severus Snape and his group of friends. Who was there again, Sirius? Mulciber, Avery, dear cousin Bella?"

Dread filled my stomach at the mention of Bellatrix. Mother would not take kindly… Her icy glare settled on me, worse than any of Professor McGonagall's most piercing looks of disapproval.

"You…_hexed_…your _cousin_?"

"Of course not," I said, tossing her a smile I did not feel and doing my best to stay calm. I told myself to lie, to just say that Regulus was making it up. But it was out of my mouth before I could stop it: "James hexed Bella. I was too busy with Snivelly and Mulciber."

"What else have you been learning?" Father asked, his level voice making it obvious he was trying to change the subject.

I steadied my breathing, managing to shrug as I took a gulp of pumpkin juice. "Oh, you know Father, the usual—Slughorn's a bore with Potions, but I quite—"

"Hasn't been learning much of anything, from what I've seen." Regulus interrupted. I took in a calming breath to prevent myself from cursing my brother into oblivion. Did he get joy out of torturing me? He truly was a Black.

"And what is it that you've seen, brother?"

"You've been shacking up with that Mudblood for weeks," he said casually, causing my heart to skid to a stop and then jump into overdrive, faster than the wings of a snitch. He often made a game of taunting me with telling our mother my misdeeds, but I never imaged he'd stoop so low as to bring my love life in to it. "What's her name again, Danie—?"

Our mother's voice exploded over his. "You've done _what_?"

"Danielle's a brilliant witch," I said, glaring at my brother with both hands now clenched in my lap. I dared to meet my mother's blazing gaze.

"How _dare _you! You've always been a disappointment, Sirius—but this." Mother laughed, but it sounded eerily like a scoff. "A Mudblood? Honestly! You've disgraced the sacred name of Black."

"Stop calling her that." I clenched my jaw, breathing hard. After aiming a vicious kick at my brother under the table, I stood up and threw my napkin atop my half-finished plate.

"Where are you going? I did not say you were dismissed!"

"I'm not hungry anymore," I said, my chest heaving, fists clenched at my side as one foot hovered on the bottom step. "And I don't care what you say—Muggle born or no, Danielle has ten times the talent as—"

"Such disrespect?" Mother spluttered, almost unintelligible. "In my own home! Sirius Orion Black, get back here this instant, I will not tolerate this blatant sabotage of the ancient house of Black!"

"Oh, stuff it, Mother," I said, halfway up the stairs and sounding much braver than I felt. "The ancient house of Black can kiss my Gryffindor arse!"

I was almost at the top when the pain hit me, seconds after I heard a strangled cry of "_crucio_." My body curled into itself, causing me to lose balance and tumble down the stairs. I'd never known pain before that moment. I thought I had, but I hadn't. I resisted the urge to scream, unwilling to give her the satisfaction. The intensity of my mother's rage was mimicked in her curse, filling me with blinding, searing, unbearable pain.

The burning, fiery pain disappeared as suddenly as it'd started. I lay on our kitchen floor, gasping for breath as my head spun. Sweat beaded on my brow as I pushed myself to my feet. Regulus and Father were both frozen, their eyes wide in shock but making no move to come to my aid. What a surprise. I reacted instinctively, snatching my wand from my pocket and pointing it at my mother. Her eyes flashed and I couldn't remember a time she'd ever looked angrier.

"_Prote_—"

Before I could finish the spell, her wand flicked upwards. Gasping, my wand clattered to the ground and I clutched at my chest. The burning slash of pain was quickly replaced by a dull ache and my hand came away bloody.

"Walburga," Father said, alarmed. He seemed to unfreeze at the red quietly staining the front of my Muggle t-shirt. While she was distracted, I snatched my wand from the floor, spat on the ground by my mother's feet, and ran for my room.

My hands shook and tears blurred my eyes as I flicked my wand, muttering a spell to seal my door shut as I quickly gathered all the things I might need. I could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs. They suddenly stopped short and the handle of my door rattled.

"Sirius. Sirius, I swear I didn't—I never thought—" The pain and worry was evident in my brother's voice, but I didn't care. Where had the worry been when he'd watched our mother use an Unforgivable curse on me? Where had it been when he'd continuously provoked her?

I wrestled the window open and tossed my trunk out into the pouring rain. A clap of thunder rattled the glass. With one last final, shaking breath, I looked around my room. I'd hated this place since I was a child, yet it made my chest tight to think I would be alone from now on. The blood still seeping out of the cut on my chest reminded me that being alone was better than being with insane bigots. I clenched my jaw, gripped my wand tightly, and dropped out of my window. The fall was farther than I'd imagined. My right ankle crunched unpleasantly against the impact, but my body still ached so badly from the curse I hardly noticed. I let out a hiss as I stepped on it and my body protested, but I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain. Clutching my trunk in one hand and my wand in the other, I marched up the street, away from the home I had always hated and the people who had always seemed to hate me.

A storm raged up above. My clothes had quickly become soaked as I walked aimlessly around the city, uncertain what to do and not knowing where to go. I found shelter under a bus stop and sat down on my trunk. The streets were practically deserted, as any sane person was inside and out of the storm. I rolled my wand between my palms, the racing pulse in my veins slowly starting to calm as I tried to figure out what to do. My shoulders slumped tiredly, the adrenaline that had kept me going for the past twenty minutes slowly dissipating.

Out of nowhere there was a brilliant flash of light and a loud _pop!_ directly in front of me. Forcing my eyes open, I saw a bright purple double-decker bus. Before I could even wonder what was happening, a man popped out.

"Good evening, sir!" he said brightly, making me jump.

I scrambled to my feet, careful not to put too much weight on my bad ankle. He couldn't have been much older than me, perhaps three or four years. His hair was scruffy and his uniform a little worn, but other than that he wasn't too unpleasant-looking. Surely he wasn't an agent of the Dark Lord, looking like that?

"Er—hello?" I said uncertainly.

"The Knight Bus offers you her service. Step aboard and she'll take you anywhere you'd like, sir."

Anywhere was better than here.

"Okay…" I said cautiously, reaching for my trunk. But it was already gone, being carried to the bus by the man.

"Where to my fine friend?"

It only took a second to answer.

"Godric's Hollow," I said loudly, in order to be heard above the booming thunder.

The man nodded, gestured to a nearby bed, and then disappeared. The motion of the moving bus nearly lulled me to sleep. My eyelids sagged heavily, but I fought against the fatigue. I knew my mother would never bother coming after me. It was likely she was relieved to be rid of me. But there was an uneasy feeling coating my stomach and I was terrified of letting my guard down. It took an astonishingly short amount of time before the man was back, my trunk in hand.

"Godric's Hollow," he announced, sweeping a hand toward the door.

"Thanks," I muttered as I took my trunk and hobbled down the stairs.

The weather was gloomy here too, the clouds releasing lazy snowflakes at a steady pace. My breath misted in the air as I shivered. I had never been to the Potter's house on foot, but thankfully the village was rather small. It only took me ten minutes of wandering to find the modest home tucked behind a stone fence. I had always appreciated that the Potter's did not feel the need to advertise their wealth or their blood status. At the gate, I hesitated as worry coated my stomach. What if they didn't want me? Where else could I go? _James would never let that happen_, I told myself. Taking in a deep breath, I opened the gate and walked on. My knuckles rapped loudly against the wooden door. I prayed they weren't already asleep.

There was no answer, so I pounded again, longer this time. At long last I saw a light flicking on inside. A moment later the door swung inward to reveal a squinting James clad only in pajama bottoms.

"Sirius?" he said groggily after a moment. His glasses were off, and he squinted harder, his shoulders hunching as he leaned forward.

"Merlin's sake, are you really that blind?"

Once he realized it was me, he seemed to wake up a little. "Get in here, you'll catch your death. It's freezing out there."

"Mum and Dad are asleep," he said as he led me to his bedroom and shoved his glasses on. "Bloody hell, Padfoot. You're a mess!"

I gave him a sheepish grin and attempted to shrug despite the shivers ripping through my body. The movement caused the cut on my chest to sting smartly. I sucked in a hissing breath. James ripped one of the blankets off his bed and wrapped it around me tightly.

"You look like you've been in a battle," he said, shaking his head. "What the hell happened?"

"S-suppose I have, in a…a way," I said through my chattering teeth.

"Come on," James said, dragging me back downstairs and tapping the fireplace with his wand. After a soft murmur a fire sprang to life in the grate. He pressed me down onto a small stood right in front of it.

"Have you come from home?" He asked, wrapping a tartan throw from the sofa around his shoulders.

I swallowed hard, doing my best to contain the shaking of my body before I met the deep brown gaze of my best friend in the world. I nodded wordlessly and he sank down to the ground slowly, sitting with his legs crossed underneath him.

"You'll stay here as long as you need," he said firmly, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"But your folks—"

"They'll be delighted to have you. And this isn't a discussion."

Despite my urge to protest further, I felt the trickle of relief flowing through me. I'd be safe here. No more crazy mum, no more bigoted, racist parents who constantly droned on about the Dark Arts and Lord Voldemort. No more shutting myself in my room to avoid it all.

"Thank you, James," I said quietly, a real smile spreading over my lips for the first time in weeks.

His only response was a hand on my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze of assurance.

* * *

**Potter's Residence, December 1975**

I woke up in a strange room the next morning, covered in blankets. It took me a moment to remember what had happened. Groggily, I pushed the blankets aside and stumbled downstairs. The Potters were all sitting at the breakfast table, chatting happily. The floorboard creaked under my weight and they all turned to look at me. Next thing I knew, I was in Mrs. Potter's arms as she hugged me tightly. My aching body protested, the cut across my chest screaming in protest.

"Don't suffocate him, Mum," James said good naturedly, joining us in the doorway.

Mrs. Potter laughed and stepped back, frowning as her eyes swept over me. I did my best not to wince from the pain, but Mrs. Potter had a keen eye. She sniffed and turned away without a word, hurrying down the hall. James met my gaze grimly, but thankfully stayed silent. I wasn't ready to tell him the ugly details yet. His mother returned with a bottle in her hand and fussed over me, forcing me down into a chair. Mrs. Potter clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she examined my ankle.

"I'm all right, Mrs. P., I promise I'll be—"

"Nonsense," she sniffed. Her wand prodded my swollen ankle and I winced. James wordlessly slid a plate in front of me and handed me a fork. A moment later the pulsing ache of my ankle was gone. "And please, call my Euphemia. I insist."

James grinned at me. "Welcome home, mate."

I stared at him blankly a moment. "I just need a place to stay a few days. I can't ask you to—"

"You didn't," Mr. Potter said, his eyes sparkling kindly as he met his son's gaze a moment before locking with mine. "Euphemia and I were always saddened we couldn't give James a sibling. But we needn't have worried, because he's found brother in you. Our family takes care of each other."

I nodded, shoveling a bite of food in my mouth to hide the tears spiking at the back of my eyes. Euphemia prodded at my chest through the hole slashed in my shirt. She shook her head, muttering to herself.

"There's nothing for it," she said. "Take it off, young man."

From the look in her eyes I knew resistance would be futile. Swallowing hard, I hesitated only a moment before pulling my shirt off. The large gash started at the top of my shoulder and ended almost exactly at the center of my chest. Euphemia pressed her lips together tightly in a great impression of Professor McGonagall.

"This is spell damage," she said tightly. "Sirius, where did you—?"

"Doesn't matter what happened, Mum." James cut her off, meeting my gaze a moment. "Can you heal it?"

"Not completely, not with this kind of injury. You'll always have a scar I'm afraid."

My lips twitched upwards in a wry smile as I squeezed her hand gently. "It's okay. Just do what you can. And…thank you."

The Potters all gave me kind smiles. I took another bite of my food, suddenly realizing how hungry I was. Euphemia daubed some disgusting smelling yellow-colored balm against the cut. It burned a little, but I didn't dare grimace. Once she finished, she pulled a jug from a cabinet and filled a small cup with a purple liquid. At least it smelled more pleasant than the ointment.

"Drink this, dear, it'll make you feel better."

The tears in her gentle brown eyes startled me. She gave me a watery smile before stepping away and wiping her eyes. I reached for the cup and put it to my lips. The liquid was sickly sweet, but it was warm sliding down my throat and it immediately made my muscles ache less. James rounded the table and clapped a hand on my good shoulder, smiling at me.

"Welcome home, Sirius."

This time I nodded, lifting the chalice in a toast to him before putting my head back and draining the remaining potion. When I put the glass back on the table, I had a grin on my lips as well. My heart soared as the reality sunk in. I should have known better yesterday. With James by my side, I knew I was never alone. No matter what happened, I would get through it with the help of the brother I had found.


End file.
